


All The King’s Men

by Detroitbydark



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Comfort Isle style, Dark fic, F/M, Gen, Mentions of Rape, Pre-Relationship, Revenge, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, harry hooks school of getting over shit, please see warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 16:59:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16412384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Detroitbydark/pseuds/Detroitbydark
Summary: Harry and Evie have never been what one would call friends but a chance encounter on the worst night of her life brings the two together to form an unlikely bond.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic because I was mad. So many things to be mad about I don’t even know where to begin.
> 
> This became cathartic to an extent for working through some feelings from an assault I experienced many many years ago but never allowed myself to work through/accept.
> 
> Please note, this may be triggering to some and if you have concerns it may not be for you.
> 
> Most of this piece is already written and will likely be at three chapters when done.

When he finds her it’s only her tiny cries that catch his attention, that lead him to the spot behind the dumpster. On the dirty ground, atop rotten food and torn papers lies The Evil Queen’s daughter. Harry knows of Evie from her association with Mal and her VK’s. While she’s never crossed Uma and him directly, she’s always been guilty by association.

She’s the enemy.

He should scoff at whatever has befallen her, rub salt into the proverbial wound.

But…

But her clothes are askew and her leggings torn and pulled away from her body. Her hair is a mess, something he knew she’d never willingly allow. There’s blood on the pale expanse of thigh exposed to his eyes.

He knows than.

He pictures Harriet.

He pictures CJ.

Evie has no brother, no sibling to look after and protect her. He thinks of how The Evil Queen would react to such a sight and shakes the image from his head. He’s heard enough of her to know how this story would end.

Harry’s heart has been blackened by years of life on the Isle but a tiny piece of it squeezes tight as he watches her, curled in on herself and weeping quietly.

He moves without hesitation.

Hesitation meant thought and there was no thought needed in what he would do next.

She fights against him when he scoops her up and Harry growls at her to be still. She remains stiff as he awkwardly juggles her in his grip and drapes his coat across her body but she no longer fights him.

The weather has turned with winter on the way and her skin is cold against the heat of his own. Why was she out without a coat of her own?

She’s lucky (or maybe not) to have been close to the wharf and that he knows its warren-like layout like the back of his hand. He moves swiftly through its alleys and corridors, the dying light only aiding him in remaining unseen by the few people in the streets.

The old warehouse he enters is rarely used since Uma won the Lost Revenge. Aside from a thin layer of dust it remains the same as the crew left it. He glances down at the blue-haired Princess. She’s fallen asleep sometime along their short journey. Her face is flushed and damp from tears.

Harry places her on one of a trio of couches the crew had laid out in a semicircle and tucks his tattered coat around her. She sleeps fitfully and he catches the glimpse of livid bruises on her wrists and one across her throat that brings the bile up in the back of his throat.

His boots echo in the warehouse as he paces back and forth, had the floor not been concrete he’d have worn a rut into it.

His mind races now that he has time to think. There’s a predator on _their_ side of the Isle. The thought burns him. The warehouses and wharf were where his people lived and worked. Uma, Bonnie, Harriet, CJ. It could have been anyone of them. Instead it had been Evie. Why had she been on their side of the Isle? What sick stroke of luck had put her in the path of a predator? As the questions mount so does his anger, growing from a simmer to a boil. He slams his fist hard into a crate. A pair of bottles that had been resting precariously on top wobble, one crashing to the floor and exploding into a million pieces.

The sound wakes Evie. He turns to see her wide eyes staring up at him, her body frozen.

“I’m no’ gonnae hurt ye, Princess” he says. Harry can see her eyes follow his every move and he intentionally moves slowly, like Gil has taught him to do around game in the forest.

“Yer safe Evie.” He attempts to soothe dropping into a crouch near her head.

The Princess takes a minute but must finally decide that her current predicament is better than how he’d found her. Her hand travels to her throat as she slowly sits up. Harry watches her rub the angry skin, it’s an unholy shade of blue black. He thinks he sees tears well in her eyes but she jams them shut and sits there, still, pulling deep breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth.

“Water.” She says finally, her voice rough and pained. Her eyes are big and brown when she finally opens them. They would be beautiful if they weren’t  so bloodshot.

Harry laughs mirthlessly pulling a flask from his back pocket.

“No water I’m afraid, pet. Rum may do ye better though.”

She nods, keeping her eyes on him as she takes the flask and takes two hard pulls. He finds he’s impressed that she does it without coughing. This was not the fine spirits his father could somehow procure, this was bootlegged and vile stuff.

Beggars could not be choosers.

They sit in silence, the princess and the pirate. With calfs burning Harry finally lowers himself to the ground. He takes the flask back with a hand he didn’t realize that had been shaking. Evie raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow as he finishes the dregs.

When he’s done Harry slips it back into his pocket. When he speaks his voice is firm.

“Who was it?”

Evie readjusts uncomfortably, her eyes find a point somewhere behind him and lock onto it.

“It was nothing” She says stiffly, “a misunderstanding”

Harry scoffs, his voice rising “that was nothing?!” She flinches at his tone but he’s not dissuaded. “Give me another lie, will ye? When ah’ve made a man bleed there narry was a _misunderstanding_ , they damn well knew what had happened.”

“Stop!” Her voice is ragged. Harry adjusts his position, rising to his knees and moving into her space. He tries a new tactic. He brings his voice back down and reaches out for her hand. “Evie…”

She jerks her arm back violently.

“Don’t touch me” she hisses. Any other time he’d find such spunk endearing but this spunk is a result of something that should have never happened.

“Why do you even care? Why did you bring me here?” Her voice is rising now, “Are you going to run and tell Uma, tell the rest of the Isle that I’m a whore who got in an alley? I shouldn’t have been such a flirt? Did I deserve this?” The words spill out of her like the tides across the beach, rushing and reckless.

“I dinnae have tae bring ye here. Could have left ye lying in the alley for anyone tae find, he says when she finally takes a breath for air. “I’ll tell Uma, tae be sure. I don’ know about Mal, but Uma and I protect our own. Also, I’ll not let my loyalty tae her be questioned. But,” Harry begins, running fingers through already mussed hair, “I’ll not be spreading lies. Don’ know what kind of monsters Mal has ye believing us tae be.” He keeps his focus on her, hopes his eyes will convey that he’s not out to hurt her. Hopes she’ll give him the identity of the man he’ll be killing.

She rises suddenly her face flushing red when she remembers the state of her clothes. Harry stands, moving back a pace before he turns his back to her.

“I need to get home before Mother comes looking for me”

He can hear the sound of clothes shifting. He turns only when she clears her throat. Though her eyes were still red she looked unperturbed. Her legs were bare and her skirt short. The tattered remains of her dark leggings lay in a pile off to her side.

“Are ye ok?” He asks after a moment.

“No” she says after a beat, “but I don’t have the time to not be”

He nodsat her. Appearances on the Isle were everything. He watches her begin to walk away. Her legs wobble slightly and she looks uncomfortable with the simple movements.

“I can find my own way home, Hook.” She says suddenly as if she knew he was about to offer his assistance.

“Evie, if ye need…”He pauses when she looks back over her shoulder. She’s hiding behind the haughty facade he’s seen before. He doesn’t finish his sentence as she opens the door and turns away from him. It could be the wind that’s picking up but he swears he hears ‘thank you’ as the door slams shut.

* * *

The rumors begin almost immediately. When Mal and Jay ask her, Evie tells them. She regrets it immediately. The looks in their faces tell her all she needs to know.

_Evie’s looking for attention._

_Evie regrets it, now she’s going to cry wolf._

Carlos seems to believe her. The quiet boy tells her he’s sorry and sits so close at her side that their knees press together as tears slip down her cheeks.

* * *

Under a black velvet cloak she slips from her tower and heads to the wharf. She leaves a lone apple at the back door of Hook’s bait shop.

* * *

 

When Harry arrives to the warehouse Evie’s already there seated primly on one of the ratty couches. She looks out of place as she gives him a wane smile. She raises a flask and shakes it gently. The contents slosh loudly from side to side. He tosses his half eaten apple into the rubbish bin before taking a seat near her. He takes a greedy swallow from the proffered flask.

“Why-“

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors by now.” Her tone is stiff.

“I  thought ye’d know more about me than tae know I don’ listen tae the VK gossip mill.” He watches her sit back. Her ruby lips purse as he passes the flask back and she takes her dose of the vile medicine it contains.

“Wesley.”

Harry is still as death. He knew Wes. Wesley, son of the Duke of Weaseltown, was close with Gil’s older brothers. He’d never seemed like a bad lad the few times they’d crossed paths. He was always quick with a witty retort and a panty dropping smile. He had girls throwing themselves at him. He was a charming, smug kind of bastard but had always seemed harmless.

Evie must see the look on his face because she visibly deflates.

“Stop it Blue.” He chides, “I just never thought…”

“It didn’t start out bad.” She says softly, interrupting what he’d been planning to say, “Wesley said we should go for a walk. We’ve been flirting for weeks. I was excited he asked me. I didn’t want to come over to this side of the Isle but he insisted.”

Harry watched her take a steadying breath. Her teeth worry her bottom lip, pressing hard into the pillowy flesh just right of center.

“I wanted to kiss him.” Evie says slowly.

Harry can see her carefully and deliberately choosing her words.

“It felt fun, maybe a little dangerous to kiss him so close to Uma’s territory” She pauses as if waiting for an argument from him. He nods for her to continue. Her hands fidget in her lap, they are the only thing about her that isn’t still. Everything else is a masterclass in poise.

“Wes pulled me into the alley. It was still fun. I was giggling. I remember the way the bricks felt against my back. They were cold. I left my coat at home. I wanted to look cute. Maybe he would do like the Princes in the story and let me wear his.”

“Ye don’ have tae tell me this, princess,” he says but Evie doesn’t stop.

“He started kissing my neck and I wasn’t sure about that but I let him because, this is what guys who like you do right? Mother always said… but than his hands started to go under my skirt.” Her fingers pluck at the hem of the dress she was wearing and she looks away from Harry. “I pushed his hand away once. Told him I didn’t like that.” Her voice is quiet and Harry strains to hear her. “I said ‘no’ when he tried to sweet talk me into it.”

“It’s funny,” she continues, no humor in her voice. “I thought he was attractive because he was so big and strong but when he had my hands above my head it was a lot less attractive” Evie turns the full strength of her gaze on Harry  and he feels lost. She’s speaking in a flat tone, factual. As if that made anything he was hearing easier.

“I tried to scream but he put his hand over my mouth. I couldn’t breath...and than it was on my throat and he was just pushing” Evie’s brows furrow as Harry watches her relive that moment. He wants to tell her to stop but she needs this. She needs someone to hear her truth.

“Pushing and pushing like he was planning on pushing right through to the wall and…” she stopped short. “You know the rest.”

Harry nodded solemnly, he could fill in the blanks so she didn’t have to. His stomach felt sour and the anger he’d felt that day returned with vengeance.

“Ye didna’ do anything wrong.” He says after a moment. The words sound dumb even to him, how did that make this better? His shoulders slump in and he looks down at the ratty laces of his boots.

She sits watching him silently. He can feel her eyes on him, burning into his flesh. “Didn’t I?” She rose easily to her feet and began to tread the same path back and forth he’d done the day he’d found her.

“You know he’s telling everyone how ‘ _hot_ I was for it’?” Anger laced her voice. “I _‘begged’_ for it.”

Harry watches her attempt to shake the tension from her shoulders.

“You know what the sickest thing is?” Evie strides over to him, looking down on him. He shakes his head mutely. Her eyes are like a lightning storm, dark and full of electricity.

“Everyone believes him, no question asked.” The heels of her boots click out a staccato rhythm as she’s returns sharply to pacing. It’s like the sound of a metronome until Evie grabs an empty bottle and throws it across the room with feral scream. It shatters against a support beam.

Harry leaps to his feet, years of finely honed instincts reacting to the sound. Tears are rolling down her face as her chest rises and falls.

“It’s not fucking fair.” Her voice cracks as she says the words. It’s a guttural sound, half cry and half scream.

Harry draws his sword from its spot at his waist. Evie’s eyes go wide before he flips it in his grip and offers it up to her hilt first.

“Take it.” He urges. He can feel a darkness bubble in him sparked by a flash of something equally bleak in the depths of her own umber gaze.

“Use it.” he gestures with his free hand. “Destroy something.” He encourages.

She wipes at her eyes with the knuckle of her thumb. She scoffs,“Is that supposed to make me better? Is that supposed to fix me?”

“No, Blue, but ‘tis a damn good way tae start.”

Harry feels relief and excitement wash over him as she takes the weapon from him. She’s brandished a blade before, he knows by the graceful arch she makes with it. She points it menacingly at a pile of loose crates. When she begins hacking and slashing at the pile he feels giddy with glee.

She screams and sweats, the beads forming along her brow, as she takes her anger and her sorrow out in the hapless objects. Splinters litter the floor and cling to the midnight fabric of her dress. Over and over she stabs and slashes, until she’s nothing but a panting mess. Only than does she look over at Harry. The sword clatters to the concrete, falling unceremoniously from her grip. She steps past him without so much as acknowledging his existence.

This time he’s sure he hears the “thank you” as she leaves the door


	2. Chapter 2

_I could kill him._

_H._

The note reads simply. The parchment it’s on is tattered and yellowed. It’s a cast off from Auradon. Evie admires the fine handwriting, imagines it spoken in Hook’s warm brogue, than balls it up and throws it in the fire. How he managed to slip it into her purse is beyond her.

It’s been two weeks since “The Event” happened.

She can’t call it anything else and maintain her composure.

* * *

  _We could arrange an accident._

_H._

Evie frowns as she finds this letter stuck in the thorns of the half dead rose bush that wraps around her tower.

Three stories up.

She wonders why Harry bothers. She also wonders how many thorns he had to dig out of his flesh after his little adventure.

She lets the note loose and watches it drift to the ground, falling amongst dead leaves and crumbled mortar. Her face still stings from the slap she received from her mother.

Apparently, Malificient had informed the Evil Queen of “The Event”.

* * *

  _I could show you how to gut him._

_H._

The note give Evie pause. Harry Hook was nothing if not persistent. His offer isn’t entirely unwelcome either. Mal has told her she didn’t need to bother coming around until she could “stop moping”. Her closest friend doesn’t believe her and it’s a fitting feeling to have no one to turn too. But maybe she did have someone...

She checks her concealer again in the cracked mirror of her vanity. The blackened eye her mother had gifted her was fading from purple to a hideous yellow green. The concealer only worked so well to hide the mark. She slips the note into her purse before drawing her cloak tight around her.

* * *

 “What’s the meaning of this?”

They’re in the warehouse again. Harry stares at the paper she’s thrusting at him. It’s folded but he knows what it is. He wonders what became of the other two.

“An offer” He states, “as were the other two”

He’s been called single-minded before. Obsessive.

Harry has thought about little else but the the princess with hair as dark as the oceans depths. He’s replayed their interactions and questioned his own. In the end the only (disgusting) reason he can come up with is that he wanted to help. He’s developed a soft spot for the lass.

Like the bruise on a piece of fruit, he wonders if it will rot him from the inside out.

Uma had only nodded when he’d explained the situation. He had been clear with Evie, he would not lie to his Captain. Unlike Evie, Harry knew Uma to be fair and just (as far as the standard of the Isle allowed). Uma had given her blessing for Harry to continue his self assigned mission with only the minimal questioning of his sanity.

“But why?” Evie’s follow up to her first question is quiet as she drops on to the shabby sofa a few feet from him. She looks deflated, all pretense of superiority gone.Her hand rubs idly at the Her opposite arm.

“Do I need a reason?”

“Yes”

He mills over the question, not for the first time. She doesn’t force his answer, instead letting him simmer in his silence until ready.

“You may not believe it but I understand.” Her head cocks minutely to the side but she says nothing. Her gaze is assessing and Harry feels a surge of annoyance at being put in the crosshairs of it. He was a Hook, a master pirate and he didn’t need to explain himself to anyone, except his Captain. 

And now a certain cerulean-haired Princess. 

“I know what it’s like to feel alone and angry without recourse. I’ve been the one no one believes.” he elaborates yet gives no details. “I don’t want to see someone else go through that”.

Evie huffs disbelievingly. Harry shrugs feeling irritation rising up in him. “Or we can just say I don’t take well to predators hunting in our territory.” He bites out.

With a small nod she seems willing to accept that answer more readily.

“We may not be friends, Princess, but we can be allies.”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend” She says with a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Aye, Blue, that they are.”

* * *

 “Not looking so hot, Princess.” Harry points out not seconds after she’s entered the door.

Evie sneers and chucks a bottle at his head. He dodges it easily as it shatters against the wall behind them. He’s going to need to bring a broom as the shards continue to pile up with each meeting they have in the old hideaway. He chuckles lightly as she shoots a nasty glare his way.

“I can’t sleep” She says after a moment as she lifts herself to a crate. Her feet dangle and kick back and forth restlessly. Harry feels like he _may_ see dark circles under her eyes but even on her worst days the Evil Queen’s daughter looks picture perfect.

“Bad dreams?”

Evie sighs, finally giving up pretense and folding down into herself.

“The worst.”

Harry clucks his tongue , “I have just the remedy for ye.” He unfolds a plain leather roll as she hops from her perch and wanders wearily over to him. The daggers glisten in the low light. He places a full flask next to them. Her fingers trace the metal with a feather light touch. No one but Uma has ever been allowed to touch his little joys. He feels a warmth flow through him as she looks up and smiles mischievously.

“Class is in session, I suppose?”

* * *

 Evie finds she enjoys her time down at the wharf. Harry tells her Uma’s given her a free pass as long as she’s meeting him and comes alone. That’s easy to do as she’s still in exile from the other VK’s. It’s not that she hasn’t tried to see her friends but they always seem to have something to do; plans already made that don’t involve her. It hurts. It hurts like hell. She’s found at the wharf she can channel that pain. 

Harry hasn’t arrived yet and Evie takes a moment to set up food for the pair of them, hard cider stolen from her mothers private stash, an apple, and a stale loaf of bread. She sings quietly to herself as she works, a song her step-sister used to sing when they were children. It’s been a long time since she’s allowed herself to think of Snow. 

When she’s in the warehouse she doesn’t feel so on edge. Her mind can wander to happier times. She can almost forget the bad ones. Almost.

She hears the sound of the door opening on its rusty hinges. She turns to greet her partner in crime but stops short, the song cutting off as she takes in Harry. The pirate has a sloppily stitched gash above his right eye and a shiner that put her now healed one to shame.

“I didn’t know selling bait was so violent” she snarks. She’s met with a dark look.

“Why didn’ ye tell me about Junior?” Harry cuts to the chase through clenched teeth. Evie felt her heart stutter.

Junior. Gaston Junior.

“I didn’t think there was anything to say.” It’s a lie. She knows it. He knows it. The laces of her boots are suddenly extremely interesting. He clears his throat and she is forced to look up.

His eyes bore into her.

“I took care of it” she says too quickly.

Harry holds up a silencing hand, “ _I_ took care if it.”  His voice is a growl andhis accent has grown impossibly thick. A look of disgust crosses his face and Evie feels small. She wants to disappear. She certainly doesn’t want to hear anymore.

“Don’ even want tae tell ye what he was yammering on about at the Chip Shop.”

Evie can only imagine. 

Bolstered by Wesley’s fabricated version of “The Event”, Gaston’s oldest had been ruthless in his pursuit of her. He’d cornered her two days before in the market and she hadn’t been able to speak as he’d placed a massive hand at her hip, pressing her back into a forgotten corner. Everything had come back, rushing in like a tsunami. She doesn’t remember what she said (if she said anything). She doesn’t remember her knee coming up and connecting with his groin or the way he’d fallen to a knee (though she hears all of this through the grapevine afterwards. _Poor Junior was just trying to flirt with her. I don’t know what her problem is)._  What she does remember is coming to in an abandoned market stall, gasping in shallow, useless breaths as her heart raced and fat tears rolled across her cheeks.

“If he lays another filthy finger on ye, Ah’ll kill him.” Harry says lowly, voice thick with rage.

Evie nods quietly, feels her heart begin a slow uptake in beats. She must look a mess as Harry’s face softens. His icy stare thaws minutely as he studies her. She didn’t want to be like this. She was the daughter of a Queen, the most wicked to have ever lived. She hated her own weakness, her inability to move past what Wesley has done as Mal has insisted she do. The feelings were as poisonous as any brew her mother had ever created.

Though still looking displeased Harry moves to her, coming up short a few steps away. The movement pulls her from her thoughts as he opens his arms slowly and unsure.

He looks awkward standing there but she doesn’t hesitate or give him a chance to change his mind before she’s in them and he’s wrapping them around her. She tucks her hands under his coat and around his back, fingers flexing against the tattered fabric of his shirt. She feels his chin resting on the top of her head as she pulls in great breaths, inhaling his scent. It’s the first time he’s touched her (the first time she’s allowed anyone to touch her) since “The Event”.

After a few moments (and far sooner than she’d hoped) the spell is broken and he readily drops his arms as she pulls away.

“I figured today we’ll work on finding yer opponents soft spots.” Harry finally says in his best instructor’s voice as if nothing had transpired between the pair. “Though from the sounds of it, ye already know o’ one.” A lazy grin crosses his face. 

“Lovely.” Evie says, throwing up her mask of poise, “I’ve brought snacks.”

if he could act like nothing had happened so could she.

* * *

“What do you know about poison?”

Evie looks at him incredulously. “I’m The Evil Queen’s daughter”. She plays the part of haughty Princess well, looking down her nose at him, “I know my fair share what would you like to know?”

Harry chuckles, “I thought I was the one teaching the lessons here?” 

Evie reaches over and pats him gently on the arm, she’s struggling not to smile, biting into her check to hold it back, “I believe in this case the student surpasses the teacher.”

He likes seeing her like this, light and unguarded. It never lasts long but it’s refreshing to see that underneath the facade of snark and superiority she’s just another girl joking with a....friend. He realizes with a bit of a shock. Evie is his friend.

 

* * *

 “When do you want to do this?” Harry asks one night as they’re sharing a plate of chips he’s smuggled from Ursula’s. Evie licks the grease from her fingers in such an unpretentious, un-princess like way he has to stifle the barking laugh that escapes him. She looks up at him with a confused look, a small speck of batter clinging to her lip.

“What?” A smile plays at the corner of her mouth. She’s never looked so unvillain like.

Sweet.

Harry wipes the crumb off with his pinkie and flicks it away. “When do ye want tae put all these wonderful life skills I’ve been teaching ye tae use?”

She looks thoughtful, Like she was planning what outfit to wear to her next ball not destroying a man.

“Next week?”

He shoots her a manic grin, eagerly anticipating the mayhem she’ll wield. He doesn’t think she realizes the extent of his bloodlust, how he wants to see her bring Wesley limb from limb. His star pupil set loose. She’ll see it soon enough. His stomach growls.

“Pass the tartar sauce, pet? We’re no’ heathens are we?”

She giggles ( _giggles!)_ and hands him the condiment.

After dinner he reviews the finer points of a garrote. He prefers fishing line. She, her favorite red scarf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my dear little muses have begun to steer away from the course I’ve set them on. Such it is when working with villains, no respect for authority. I hope you enjoy! Please feel free to comment away. I love hearing what y’all think!


	3. Chapter 3

“Wesley can I have a word with you?” Evie keeps a flirty smile on her face even though being in the mere vicinity of him is making her heart race and her flesh crawl. The grin that crosses his face was one bred of pure arrogance. How had she once found that attractive? How had she ever seemed him worthy. She would be a fucking Queen and he was nothing, certainly not on her level. Harry’s icy blues flash in her mind and she quickly pushes his smirking visage to the back burner. 

Venom flows through her veins. The poison that Wes had created was going to come back to haunt him. If the toxic hatred in her blood was dangerous the poison of her kiss was even more so.

* * *

Harry watches Evie pace, her anxious energy is palpable in the air like the electricity of a coming storm.  Her victim is strapped to a chair a few feet away, still near comatose from the lethal peck the princess had given. His arms are bound tightly behind him at the wrists and each leg is secured to it’s corresponding chair leg. Harry tied them himself after he’d helped the princess drag the unconscious oaf to the warehouse.

She’d been correct when she’d asserted, as The Evil Queen’s daughter, she knew her stuff. The quick peck to the lips had incapacitated the idiot in moments. He’d watched from the shadows as she’d led Wesley away from the crowd, picking him off like a lioness picking off a weak gazelle from the herd. The idiot hadn’t even questioned her motives as she’d batted her dark eyes at him, leanibg forward to offer up a tantalizing view of her cleavage. Harry was ashamed to even have thought of him as a villain, so easily trusting as he was.

Evie had wiped the poison from her lips as soon as they’d arrived and reapplied her standard shade in a move that had transfixed the pirate. He watched her apply a new layer of poison apple red color with precision and focus in the gold compact mirror.

“Do you think we should gag him?”

Her sudden question throws Harry off. The click of compact closing catches his attention as the full focus of her gaze travels to him and than to Wes. If Evie realizes he was staring she makes no move to call him out. The depths of her stare are now focused solely on her unconscious prey.

“Not interested in hearing screams?” Harry asks unable to control the sinister smirk as he hands her a dirty rag. Evie stares at the sleeping beast in front of her not glancing his way as she takes the gag.  No emotion plays across her features as she jams the filthy fabric into Wes’ mouth. She’s as impassive as stone.

Harry has been around her enough in the previous months to see that she is not as calm as she appears. Tension is written across her shoulders, drawing them high and tight instead of loose and relaxed as he’s used to. Her right thumb presses each finger down in turn as if she’s stretching them out in preparation. Maybe she is. She makes a graceful turn from her quarry and offers him a tight smile.

She slips a knife from its sheath hidden within her boot.

“I think he needs to wake up now.”

* * *

The first cut had been the most anxiety fueled moment of Evie’s life. She was hesitant but Harry was at her back urging her on, so close that his scent encircled her. She could feel his heat warming her and his breath tickling at her ear.

“You want him to pay. Make him pay for what he’s done to you, Blue.” He’d whispered silkily, almost gleeful.

After she’d pulled the glinting blade slowly from the corner of his eye the the razor sharp curve of his jaw his eyes had snapped open. The blood had welled up faster than his understanding of what was going on. As if in a trance she’d turned the blade in the light watching the play of it off the metal and the crimson drops of life clinging to it.

As Wesley began to grunt and scream behind his gag, Evie felt all nerves drain from her. She was in control.

Looking back at Harry now she can’t help the wicked grin the crosses her face. Mania plays in his icy blue gaze, focused with laser like intensity on the art she is making of Wesley’s face.

As if on cue, the man lunges against his restraints and the wooden chair squeaks against the concrete floor.

“He’s jealous you might be forgetting about him, pet.” He says and she can hear the edge of excitement underlying his words. She can feel it in her own body. Turning back to Wes she lovingly brushes a sweaty lock of hair from his eyes. She admires the rose the first slice has blossomed into, studies it like an artist does a canvas. Wesley is all but foaming  at the mouth behind his gag.

“Do you have a critique?” Evie asks him lightly, “maybe an idea of what I should do next?” Harry chuckles darkly begins her, lasting in a chair like a spoiled cat.

Wesley shakes his head wildly, murder is written in his eyes. Drops of blood stain the floor behind him where his struggles have allowed the rope to cut sharply into his wrists.

Evie reaches out and pulls the gag from his mouth.

“You filthy bitch!”

Spittle flies from his mouth as he snarls at her.  White froth lands on her boot and she frowns at the sight. Behind her Harry growls lowly, spring to his feet and stalking to the pair. Evie leans back, coming into contact with his chest and feels him still. An arm wraps around her protectively as he brandishes his hook with the other at their captive.

“Ye’ll no’ speak te the lady like that again, lad.” He says darkly. “Poor form, mate.”

A flicker of fear shines in Wesley’s eyes for a moment but it quickly passes. Best not to show the wolves your weakness, Harry supposed.

“Fuck you too, Hook. When I get out of this-“

“Alright, enough of that” Evie chirps, shoving the greasy rag back into his mouth. “I thought we’d chat like civil individuals but you are incapable.”

Wesley whips his head from side to side like a dog trying to dislodge a muzzle.

Evie steps away from Harry, momentarily mourning the loss of his warmth before refocusing her attention on her victim.

“You did an awful thing to me” She says quiet and casual as she cuts one button from his shirt. It hits the ground with a ‘tink’ and rolls away. It’s followed by more as she continues to talk. “Was I the only one?” She asks. He’s trying to speak through his gag again but Evie holds up a perfectly manicured hand, “it doesn’t matter, I’ll be the last”

* * *

 

She carves her family emblem, a bejeweled crown into Wesley’s chest as Harry watches. The son of Hook finds it to be the most gloriously macabre and delightful thing he’s ever seen. She stops from time to time to ask him a question but for the most part she remains focused. Blood stains her pale fingers. They lost Wesley to sleep (or shock) a few times but a vial of smelling salts was all it took to rouse him.

Neither is paying much attention to their unwilling canvas as Evie begins the finishing touches and the crown. Harry will chastise himself later for not seeing the energy building in the man, to busy watching the Princess to see the danger at hand.

In a violent surge Wesley lunges forward in his restraints. Slicked by his own blood one of his hands slips from where it is bound and like the lightning fast stroke of a viper he’s grabbed Evie by the throat. She struggles, her cold, attitude gone. The sound of the blade clinging against the cold concrete echoes through the building as she claws at the fingers squeezing in around her slender neck.

Wide and panicked are her eyes as Harry lunges forward. His balled fist connects with the lads face once and than a second time. The force of his attack so much that the chair topples backwards and Wesley’s head bounces off the concrete with a dull thud.He hears Evie fall to the floor behind him as he straddled the man and continues to rain terror down upon the fool. He feels The satisfying crunch of Wesley’s nose under another hit. He doesn’t stop until the man has gone slack and he himself is gasping for breath. He’s made a mess of the carved rose and Wesley’s face in general.

Harry spits in the man’s face. He pushes a damp bit of hair from his eyes as he turns and drops down next to Evie. The princess as pale, ghostly white and clutching at her neck.

“Let me see, pet.” He coos quietly, peeling her fingers away from where they attempt to shield her assaulted flesh. She looks up at him with eyes filled with uncertainty.

Harry drops her hands and instead scoops her up. Bundling her tightly in his arms he rocks her as she fights down panic. She feels so slight and frail in his arms the he wants to set her down and continue to beat their captive til he’s swallowed his own teeth.

“I can’t do this.” She forces out, only a hair above a whisper. “I can’t, he’s…”

“He’s what, Evie? He’s nothing.” Harry growls in her ear. “He’s beneath ye. No’ fit te crawl on the ground ye tread.” He strokes her hair. It’s terribly soft and he likes the way it feels slipping through his fingers. She slowly relaxes against him.

“I think I’ve gone about this all wrong” he says after a moment. Evie was no villain. She may have the blood of one but it was buried somewhere deep down. No, Evie was not looking to torture the lad because she was evil, she was just a girl trying to reclaim something she’d lost.

Harry had educated her in all he knew, the intricately exquisite details of torture. He’d taught her how to break a man with efficiency and ease but that’s not what dear little Evie needed. Evie needed this to be messy. She needed to release all the ugly emotions she’d allowed to build up, not keep them in check and tamped down. She needed catharsis not control.

”He hurt Ye, pet.” It’s a statement. Evie is still in his arms. “He needs to pay.”

Evie nods her head slowly, “yes..” she whispers.

”Tell me what he did te ye.” It’s the first time he’s openly asked about what she’s only a handful of times referred to as “The Event”.

The room is quiet except for their the soft sounds of thier breathing and the wet sounds Wesley is making. A tremble travels through the sapphire haired girl.

”I can’t” She says softly.

”Ye can.” Harry encourages, “Ye have te, it’s eating ye alive.”

”I can’t Harry.” She says again with more force.

Taking her chin between his thumb and second finger he turns her head gently toward him. She eyes him uncertainly.

”Ye can and ye will.” He demands. His voice is barely above a whisper. “Tell me what the monster did to ye, Blue. Tell me why you’ve gone through this all. Tell me what reason on Zeus’ green Earth ye’d be friends with the likes of me, yer enemy.”

”He raped me” Evie snarls out, “Is that what you want to hear? Does that make you happy?”

”No, Princess, it doesn’t. None of this is about my happiness” he says after a moment. He lets loose her jaw and cups her face. His thumb strokes her cheek. Shockingly she leans into the soft touch. “Ye need to be able to say  what happened. Even if it’s only to me, even if it’s only in this room.” 

Her eyes never leave his, the chocolate brown depths shine with unshed tears. “He raped me in a dirty alley, Harry. I trusted him. I wanted him to like me and he took advantage of every opportunity I was stupid enough to give. Whatever it is he wanted he took it and left me with nothing.”

They sit in silence as Evie sobs out her despair. 

“It’s no’ yer fault Evie.” He whispers quietly againstbthe crown of her head “N’er yer fault.”

Wesley continues to breath wetly behind them.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

“ _...I disdain all glittering gold_.”

The moon shone bright as if smiling down on a chosen son.

“Sing it with me, mate?” Harry encourages with a flourish. “ _There is nothing can console me, like my jolly sailor bold.”_

The cold wind bit at Harry’s exposed skin but he felt no chill. He continued to hum and sing as they trudged further up the cliffs. 

He’d deposited Evie at her Mother’s door an hour before. He’d been wrong to think her capable of what he’d planned for Wesley. She would probably never be and he found he was ok with that. Before they’d left she’d rammed the point of her booted foot over and over into her unconscious attackers guy, the pain waking him as he heaved the contents of an earlier meal onto the floor.

When he’d taken Evie  by the crook of her arm and led her from the warehouse she seemed almost lighter as if something great and burdensome has been lifted from her shoulders. The princess had kept tucked in close to him the entire walk home. He hadn’t argued. Having her warm body tucked under his arm had felt nice. The late hour had meant there were no witnesses to the pair of them walking. If there had been, he doubted he would have cared.

_”Don’ be a stranger Blue.”_

_”Thank you, Harry”_

The spot on his cheek she’d kissed before disappearing behind an imposing pair of doors still tingled warmly making him wonder if the light, giddy feeling that had stuck with him wasn’t a bit of left over poison on her full lips or perhaps something else. He’d wait til he was tucked securely into his rack to examine the nights events. 

He still had a loose end to tie up.

”Keep up now, Wes. I’ve no time for yer doddling.” The pirate gave  a sharp tug to the rope that was pulled taught behind him, boots shuffled and stumbled but the speed did not pick-up. Harry sighed irritatedly. “Yer killin’ my mood, Mate”

A muffled, angry series of noises came from behind him. Between the gag and the recently fractured jaw it was unintelligible but Harry felt he got the gist of it.

”Quit yer bitchin’ lad, we’ll have ye taken care of soon enough.”

Evie hadn’t asked him what he’d planned to do about the monster they’d left tied to a chair in the Lost Revenge crew’s old hideout. For his part he hadn’t offered up his intentions either. She didn’t need to worry about it. No one did.

Wesley would never hurt anyone again.

A sharp tug made the pirate stumble, the rope tether nearly yanking from his gloved hand. A quick turn had him on his prey in but a moment. One hand clenching in the battered man’s collar while the other held his cutlass to his throat. Harry could feel Wesley swallow, his Adam’s apple pushing at the blade. His eyes narrowed as he pushed the cutlass harder. Icy blues danced wickedly as a thin bead of blood rolled across the steel.

”We’re nearly there, my good fiend and than we’ll have ourselves a wee chat, eh?”

Wes dark eyes promised retribution but Harry could only laugh in his face. He was but a toothless tiger at this point both metaphorically and physically. 

Dropping the rope Harry took up position at Wesley’s side, looping his arm around his shoulders much like he’d done to Evie earlier. Wes was a few inches taller than Harry and more solid and thick where Harry was lean and sinewy muscle. He didn’t fit like Evie had and it only made his mind trail back to the warehouse and the nights activities. Evie’s artistic work still was visible across Wesley’s face and Harry felt pride warm his chest.

“We’ll walk together.” Harry chuckles as he continued to keep the sharp edge of his steel pressed against the other man’s throat in a not so gentle reminder. “Onward and upward, my dear Da always says. Except for that he don’” He laughs at his own joke.

There are no clouds in the sky and when Harry looks up he can see the second star on the right sparkling seductively. The moon glows brightly as the footing becomes more treacherous and Harry glances down at his feet to ensure careful steps.

Wesley stumbles repeatedly and Harry supposes a pair of swollen eyes would likely hinder his own walking too. He neither voices his irritation with their slow speed nor  any warnings to help the other man’s progress.

The faintest change in the horizon was beginning as  their destination became evident.

It was a beautiful spot to perch and take in the vast straits between the Isle and Auradon proper. Uma had sat with him dozens of times as they’d hashed out plans for the future and what they’d do when the barrier finally fell. Bringing Wesley here felt as if he was dirtying the place but he’d decided it was his best option.

It took only a moment to untie his captives bound wrists and rip the gag from his mouth. Wesley had the good sense not to scream and merely hissed through the pain.

“Now we can have our chat.”

When Wesley speaks it takes Harry a moment to decipher what he was saying. Pain and broken teeth caused his words to slur but even beaten, his body is tense and his eyes dart around through swollen slits.

”Nothing to talk about Hook.” Blood dribbles from Wesley’s lip as he spoke. “I’m going to destroy every thing you hold dear.”

Leaning lazily against a rock Harry crosses his arms casually and lets the bastard speak.

”I’m going to start with Evie. You’re not going to recognize her face when I dump her body at your doorstep. I’ve already took the best of her. You want leftovers? You can have them.” He chews for a moment before spitting a bloodied bit of tooth from his mouth. “Than i’m going after your sisters. I won’t kill them though, just leave them broken, you can clean up the pieces.” 

Wesley seems to be getting more agitated as he speaks. Harry doesnt move, a smirk grows on his face as he continues to listen.

”Last but not least I’m going to make that pretty little Captain of yours my bitch. I’m gonna show her a time like you never could-“ 

A manic giggle escapes Harry’s lips. Wesley fumes.

”Do you think this is funny, you little cunt!?” Bloody spittle flies from his mouth.

”Bloody hilarious.” Harry cackles pushing off the rock and stalking forward, menace evident in every step. “Ye think I’m goin’ to let Ye see that sun rise? Dinnae think ye to be that stupid Wes.” 

The larger man is dumbfounded as he realizes the position he’s in.

Harry stands between him and the only way off the cliff. Well, the only way off the cliff that’s not over the edge. He glances over his shoulder watching Harry stalk nearer. “You don’t have the balls, Hook.” He stutters trying to call the pirates bluff.

”It dinnae take little Evie a set of testicles to carve ye up like a holiday bird.” The humor is gone from his smile but his lips remained curled back in a feral snarl. “It seems yer at a disadvantage, friend.” The word ‘friend’ is spit out like an insult.

Wesley looks from Harry to over his shoulder. “I’m not going to jump Hook. Your out of your fucking mind if that’s what you think.”

Harry steps into his space, “I’m out of my mind but I never intended for ye to jump.” 

Wesley’s eyes go wide and and his  mouth contorts into a tiny ‘o’ of surprise. Harry glances down as he does and basks in the glow of the bastard’s shock at the hilt of the dagger sticking from his gut. Harry jams it home, twisting as Wesley’s hands cover his own.

”Yer dirty pecker is never coming anywhere near those I protect again. Yer eyes are never going to see another sunrise. Yer lips are never going te taste another drop of booze.” Harry walks him backwards a step. “Ye we’re dead the second I set my sights on ye. The second I found a crying girl  in a ally in Uma’s territory.”

Wesley’s boots rest precariously on the edge of the cliff. The water is still this morning and he wonders if Tick-Tock as lazing along the banks far below like he usual does.

”Uma’s been making excellent marks in second year forgery.” He explains easily, “Yer suicide will be a tragedy fer about five minutes until everyone realizes that ye are completely forgetable.”

Harry places a hand on the other man’s shoulder, with a quick move he pushes hard and pulls the blade from its victim. Wesley rocks for a moment, hands covering the oozing hole. He doesn’t try to right himself as he tips over the edge. Harry doesn’t bother to watch him crash down the rock wall and into the pool below. Wiping the blade along his tattered pants he takes a seat on his favorite rock and watches the sky change from black, to grey, orange than yellow. He feels content as the warm glow of the suns light washes over him.

* * *

 

Its two weeks before The Duke of Weaselton’s son’s body is found...or at least what’s left of it. No one is shocked after the farewell note is found be Harry Hook at cliff’s edge.

Evie won’t admit she’s pleased with the turn of events. Fuck Wesley. She does wonder if Harry played any part in his demise but in her heart of hearts she knows the truth.

She hasn’t seen the pirate in question since that fateful night and his presence in her life is greatly missed.

She finds herself chastised by Mal for her absence and begins seeing the VKs again though the draw of them doesn’t hold for her what it used to. She’s thought of sneaking off to the wharf and the Chip Shop to see if Uma’s free pass is still welcome.

The sound of a rock bouncing off her window grabs her attention. When she throws back the curtains and opens the glass she finds no one below. A basket sits on the ground at the foot of her tower and she worries her lips between her teeth staring down at it.

She takes the steps down two at a time, ignoring her mother’sraised brow and unamused stare when she reaches the grand entrance. She slips a cloak around her shoulders and is out the door before The Evil Queen has time to properly chastise her.

The basket hasn’t moved.

She curiously peels the tattered blue scarf covering the basket. A squeal of joy escapes her lips before she has time to school her emotions.

Flowers on the Isle are a rarity, usually the only blooms to be found were the dead, rotted bouquets found in the trash Auradon would ship over. Here though, in her basket were a dozen dried roses. True, some had seen better days but they were here and they were hers. Yellow, pink, and red all mixed together to form something undeniably beautiful. Tucked carefully in between the dried blooms was a note, sealed with wax a familiar hook emblem.

Evie’s heart stutters as she carefully pries the note open and is greeted with a familiar scrawl.

 

_Princess,_

_I hope this finds you well. I’m not sure how to go about this but Uma said flowers speak  and she was sure you’d understand the language of them. I miss our time together and I wonder if you feel the same. I’ll be Da’s shop all afternoon and than i’ll Be going to the Chip Shop. Join me?_

_H_

 

Evie caresses the flowers gently before plucking a tightly sealed red blossom from the bundle and snapping the bloom from its dried stem.  Her pirate hadn’t forgotten her. As she rises she tucks the blood red bloom behind her ear. If she hurried she could make it to the other side of the Isle and to Ursula’s before Harry arrived. She had some things to discuss with Uma.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank ya’ll for reading this. It was a pleasure to write. I love writing the pair of them. This can be taken as pre-relationship or as two touch starved individuals who learn to be comfortable with one another. My goal in writing this was not for Harry to be a white knight (or Black knight) to recuse Evie from all her woes but for him to be someone that helps her facilitate her own healing. I’d love to hear what you all think!


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